


The Paths We Take

by FlukeOfFate



Series: The Will of the Force [2]
Category: Star Wars (all media types)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Politics, Space Battles, it's gonna hurt before it gets better, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2020-10-17 09:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20618696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlukeOfFate/pseuds/FlukeOfFate
Summary: “The Otomok System...that brings back memories.” - Armitage Hux15 years after the Liberation of Lothal, Eli Vanto finally discovers the fate of the Chimaera...only to discover that for them, no time has passed. Before anyone can deal with the gravity of the strange situation, a new threat appears in the form of the First Order.  A clash of political entities force the survivors to consider where their loyalties lie, and sets off a series of events that will have far reaching and devastating consequences for the galaxy.What really happened in the Otomok system?





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  


Nothing in Thrawn’s many life experiences had prepared him for this.

His whole body hurt. Dimly, he registered at least three broken ribs, the product of having been squeezed entirely too tightly by the strange tentacles holding him in place. 

If it were only the broken ribs, Thrawn could deal with it; but this pain was beyond the usual bodily injury. 

He felt like every cell in his body was screaming—but any actual screaming was drowned by the noise. Or was there an absence of noise? He couldn’t tell. His eardrums felt as though a thousand thermal detonators were exploding around him, but no sounds accompanied the stabbing sensation that instinctually made him want to throw his hands over his ears. He fruitlessly struggled to do so, but his arms were still trapped.

He tried to regulate his breathing—if breathing was the right term. The compression around his chest made it difficult to take in air...was there any air?

He knew they were moving through hyperspace. But the windows had been spectacularly broken by these…creatures, for lack of a better word. 

There should have been a vacuum. He should be dead. His body should have been dust. Thrawn could not think of any method that might allow him to survive in subspace without proper shielding…except, perhaps, the Force.

He tried to open his eyes, only to shut them tight at the first flash of light. 

Bright, was all he could think. The light had been intense enough for him to burn an after image into his retinas. As the spots danced behind his eyelids, he began to discern a figure, hunched over in what looked like exhaustion.

Bridger.

Thrawn’s brain struggled to put the pieces together. Yes. Ezra Bridger, the young Jedi. He had done this—was doing this—even if Thrawn did not understand exactly how. 

The thought that the Force might be the only thing keeping him alive gave Thrawn very little reassurance. 

The pain, the breathing, the brightness, the noise that was not noise; all of it gave rise to a sickening wave of something Thrawn had rarely experienced: panic. He struggled again, and again, and again. It only served to drain him of the little energy he had left. 

Thrawn gasped at the pain of the effort. The bright spots began to darken behind his closed eyes. He fought to keep stay awake, but his body was at its limit, and soon all thought left him.

___

Ezra Bridger watched as the Grand Admiral slumped in the Purrgil’s embrace.

The young man briefly worried that the stress of this hyperspace jump may have been too much. Ezra did his best to shield them from the chaos with the Force, but it was a struggle. Like Thrawn, he experienced a sensory overload, the Force likely the only thing sustaining him. 

He chanced to reach out with his feelings. Relief washed over him as he felt Thrawn’s presence, still alive. 

As much as Ezra hated his blue adversary, he had no intention of killing him. Thrawn wasn’t meant to die here; he was necessary.

Necessary for what, Ezra wasn’t completely sure. He was letting the Force guide his path. And the Force had made one thing clear: his path was joined to Thrawn’s, and Thrawn was meant for something else. Something important, far away from Lothal.

Ezra had seen it, just before the battle: a Force vision more powerful, more clear than any he’d seen before. Every part of his plan to save Lothal, from the Lothwolves to the Purrgil, had felt like an instruction born from a mind far more creative and wise than Ezra considered himself.

He had relayed those instructions to Phoenix Squadron. 

He hadn’t told anyone what he saw beyond the battle.

The visions were disorganized, confused, and brief: Fire fell from the sky while Imperial soldiers ducked for cover. A red plasma flashed and sizzled, so bright it hurt his eyes. 

He saw Thrawn and others like him—blue-skinned beings with red eyes glowing fiercely. A hooded figure argued in a language Ezra did not know. Children cried for help. A woman fired a blaster as dark shadows descended upon her. A human man with a kind face reached out a hand. 

Ezra saw his friends, too. Ahsoka Tano and Sabine Wren stormed a battlefield with their weapons drawn. Hera Syndulla lectured a young co-pilot while out-flying an enemy fighter. 

Every vision was accompanied by an ever increasing sense of danger. 

Ezra wanted to go to Ahsoka. She was familiar. She was both wise and strong in the Force. Finding Ahsoka seemed like the sensible thing to focus on. But Ezra’s mind constantly wandered back to the man with the kind face. This had been the most vivid part of the flickering vision, perhaps because it felt the man had been reaching out to him directly. 

Ezra was certain he’d never met the man, but something about him made him pause. He felt important, somehow, and if the Force was still guiding Ezra’s actions, then who was he to argue?

He reached out a little more with the Force, trying his best to communicate to the Purrgils what he had seen in his vision, broadcasting as much as he could the face he’d seen and the feelings that accompanied it. He prayed they would help him go where he needed to go.

He felt the brush of the Purrgils’ minds, relaxed and calm. Their own calm helped ease Ezra, allowing him to remain in control of his senses.

This kind of travel was the norm for them, except for the additional Imperial Star Destroyers they were now towing behind them. These animals needed no hyperspace lanes or buoys to lay in their course. He could feel their instinctual ability to roam the galaxy, naturally plotting their own course at hyperspeed, dodging obstacles that technology would never be able to compensate for.

Ezra wasn’t sure how long they remained like this, trapped in light and pressure, before the noise-not-noise became true noise, and the blue of hyperspace grew inky black. Then he felt a change in gravity and a rush of air, thin, cold, and wild. 

Ezra’s stomach lurched.

They had entered an atmosphere and they were falling fast.

_________________

Eli Vanto was in his quarters reviewing a weapons inventory check when it happened. A tremor rocked the vessel, causing him to drop his holopad, and nearly sending him to the floor as well. Eli didn’t have the chance to consider why before his comm chimed. 

“Commander Vanto, you are needed on the bridge,” a voice said in Cheunth.

It was Admiral Ar’alani. 

“On my way,” he responded in the same language, albeit accented, and placed his holopad back onto his desk. 

Eli began to run a list of possible problems that could have caused the shudder. A glance beyond the transparisteel confirmed they had dropped out of hyperspace. While sudden drops out of hyperspace were nothing to sniff at, the risk was nothing new, and had even begun to feel somewhat routine in the last year. But was far rougher than any hypserspace drop Eli had ever felt aboard the Steadfast. 

Eli heard soft crying as he approached the bridge. He sped up to a near run, and the crying growing louder with each step. The bridge doors slid open to reveal Ar’alani, for all the world looking calm and collected while standing over a child, who was sobbing in a chair as though her world was ending.

“What happened?” Eli asked.

“No idea. One moment she was fine, then she began screaming,” Ar’alani said.

To the untrained ear, Ar’alani’s voice remained calm and smooth, as though nothing was amiss. Eli knew better. He’d worked with her long enough to catch the forced rigidity that frequently entered her tone whenever she was feeling overwhelmed or irritated. 

Ar’alani was a great admiral, and usually quite good with the young girls the Chiss used to navigate through the galaxy, but this child had proven more demanding than any other she’d dealt with. 

“Please, calm her down.”

Eli didn’t need to be told twice. Hell, he didn’t need to be told at all. This wasn’t the first time he’d been called to this task, and likely not the last. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he whispered gently. He very lightly touched the girl’s shoulder. “Al’tirma, it’s me, Eli. You’re safe.” When he was certain that the girl was receptive, he began to stroke her back slowly. Her crying quieted slightly, but her shaking did not subside.

“Spryte, what’s wrong?” he asked again.

Spryte was a nickname he had taken to calling her. Al’tirma’s unpredictable moods and special abilities—especially in a society as regulated and structured as it was within the Chiss Ascendancy—recalled old folktales from Eli’s home planet of Lysatra. Lysatran Sprytes brought good luck or bad, and often brought both at once. They could be polished and charismatic one moment, then vengeful and savage the next at the drop of a hat. Al’tirma could create her own brand of chaos, but Eli did not blame her. She was still a child faced with an adult’s responsibility. 

Al’tirma took a couple deep breaths, and Eli thought he heard a couple hiccups before she was steady enough to answer, in a very small voice, “…hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?” he asked.

“All over,” she whimpered.

“I’m taking her to the infirmary,” Eli said. Ar’alani nodded. He would get no argument from her, even if it meant taking away their navigator. She was the only one one they had, and would be useless without proper care.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

Spryte nodded, sliding slowly out of the seat. She was still shaking. Eli kept a firm grip on her arm in case she fell. He’d much rather have carried her, but to do so would likely embarrass her. Chiss, he had come to realize, hated looking weak in front of others. 

They walked slowly, but Eli noted that Spryte grew more and more steady on her feet as they continued. By the time they reached the the infirmary, Spryte’s tears had dried and Eli had let go of her arm, but her face remained ashen and haunted. 

Eli grabbed a blanket. She was probably in shock. He called for one of doctors to check her vitals—normal, mostly, but keep the blanket on, just in case. In the end, the doctor prescribed rest, and Eli barely suppressed an eye roll. Rest was what doctors prescribed when they had no clue what was wrong. 

Eli waited for the doctor to leave before he began questioning Spryte again. The girl was skittish on a good day, prone to mood swings when stressed, and often was unpredictable. One on one conversations were less intimidating, and in the two years they’d been working together, he’d managed to form a small amount of trust that others in the crew did not have with her. 

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Spryte scrunched up her face, her red, glowing eyes squinting in effort. “I was flying. Then pain. Pain…and something else.”

Eli waited patiently as she sorted through her memory. “Faces!” she said triumphantly. 

“Whose faces?” Eli asked. This was highly irregular. “Did you know them?”

She shook her head in the negative. “Two men. One like me and one like you.”

Eli felt his breath catch. As far as he knew, he was the only human among the Chiss, and had been for quite some time. “What were they doing?”

She buried her face in her hands. “Too much, too fast. Hurts. Bright.”

Eli turned the infirmary light down. “Better?” 

She nodded yes, then continued. “I felt them.”

“You felt their pain?” Eli began to put it together. 

He didn’t understand much about the Force, but he knew Spryte could sense it. Over the years, he’d come to learn some things—those few Force sensitive girls among the Chiss were highly empathetic and extremely agile. Unlike the Jedi of legend, Chiss girls did not wield weapons or fling their enemies through the air, but their precognitive abilities were impeccable. Darth Vader was rumored to do such things and more, but Eli had never seen it. That was probably a good thing.

Spryte’s abilities were the norm, and like every ozyly-eshembo before her, she was fated to lose them completely by the time she reached full maturity. Until then, she was a very important part of the crew, even with the occasional outbursts and panic attacks. Their ship could not navigate safely without her Force abilities guiding them through the darkest corners of the Unknown Regions.

“Hey, Spryte? Did you see anything else? Any other descriptors?”

Spryte groaned and reached out to touch his arm. Eli’s world exploded in a storm of colors and noise. 

The vision was cloudy, but bright and intense. It felt like an flickering old holo, and he struggled to adjust his eyes. Giant tentacles—at least, it looked like tentacles—stretched around durasteel columns…no not columns, window frames. There was broken transparisteel all around. His already rapid heartbeat sped up as he recognized the bridge of the Chaemera.

“Two men,” Spryte had said. “One like me and one like you.”

It can’t be, he thought. But then he saw them. One, a young human male, was standing with an arm outstretched and panting with effort. Eli’s eyes followed the outstretched arm to a tightly wrapped tentacle. There, trapped in it’s embrace and struggling, Eli saw a flash of blue skin and a partial face, and below it a strip of white uniform fabric.

Thrawn.

Eli cried out and felt the force connection fizzle into nothingness. The noise and color disappeared as suddenly as it began. Eli realized he’d fallen to the floor. Spryte was panting and exhausted, but otherwise fine. He felt a flash of guilt. He figured that whatever he had felt, Spryte probably felt it far more intensely, but she’d done as he asked anyway. She was stronger than he gave her credit for. 

He didn’t allow himself to dwell on it. This vision was the priority.

Eli pressed his comm. “Admiral Ar’alani, I need to speak to you, privately. Can you come to the infirmary?”

“Acknowledged, Commander. I’ll be there shortly.”

Thrawn, Eli thought again. It was impossible, but he’d seen it clearly. 

Thrawn was alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NANOWRIMO IS UPON US AND I'M MAKING A HUGE EFFORT TO WRITE AS MUCH AS I CAN THIS MONTH!
> 
> A special thanks to @Mistressminako for her love and support this past year and a half, and whose Star Wars insights have been incredibly refreshing to discuss and have fueled my imagination. Love you! <3
> 
> (No BETA we die like men)

Ar’alani was not easily convinced. 

Not that Eli blamed her. He’d been chasing rumors and holding onto scant clues for fifteen years. Over and over, Eli would get a lead, only to have the trail go cold. Anything he said now would only be seen as a fool’s hope.

“I know what I saw,” Eli told her for a third time since he’d rushed back to the bridge and demanded a private audience with the Admiral. 

He was pushing it. By now he’d given Ar’alani ample reason to order him confined to his quarters until further notice. 

“I know you want to find him, too,” Eli said.

“What makes you think that?” 

“Because you’ve had plenty of time to tell me to shut my mouth and get back to work, but you haven’t.”   
  


Ar’alani gave him a pointed glare that confirmed to him he was right, She wanted Thrawn back almost as much as Eli did. 

Thrawn’s disappearance could not have come at a worse time. The Chiss Ascendancy--the whole galaxy--was a mess. In his heart, Eli felt that had Thrawn been there, things might not have fallen apart so badly. If they found Thrawn now, perhaps he could be the key to fixing everything.

It would be appropriate. In many ways, Thrawn was the reason everything fell apart in the first place. 

Eli knew that Ar’alani had considered all of this before. Eli himself had once made a pro and con list of how Thrawn’s introduction to Empire had set him on this crazy path, far from his home planet of Lysatra and his family. He’d hoped to make sense of things in the best way he knew: charts, facts, figures. Eli gave up trying to make sense of things with mathematical equations. Nothing could change the past. 

But if this lead panned out, they could change the future. 

“You’re certain?” Ar’anlani said. 

“Yes,” Eli said without hesitation. “More certain than anything. Please…”

Ar’alani held up a hand to silence him. “Get Al’tirma.”

__

  
  


The  _ Steadfast  _ dropped out of hyperspace with a shudder. It wasn’t nearly so rough as last time, but Eli could tell Al’tirma was at her limit. Her bright eyes remained closed and her head hung low as she took long, deep breaths.

“Thank you,” he whispered to her. “I owe you a new story.” 

He stroked her hair.

A small voice replied, with a clear but very tired sounding “Two.”

Eli smiled. “You’re right. Two.”

“Where are we?” Ar’alani asked.

”Scanners say we’ve arrived in the Otomok system,” said one Chiss officer.

“Admiral,” said another. “We are picking up several distress calls and no small amount of chatter. All originating from Hays Minor.” 

Eli’s heart pounded. “What are they saying? Who is it?”

“Relax, Commander,” Ar’alani ordered. “We’ll get to the bottom of this soon enough. Plot a course to Hays Minor. We can make it there on impulse from here.” 

She turned to Al’tirma, who seemed to have recovered a bit. “You go rest. You’ve done enough for now.”

“Yes, Admiral,” the little girl replied, and wasted no time leaving the bridge to find a good place to meditate and recover.

“Now, Mid Commander Vanto, open communications.”

A wave of noise erupted from the comm. Through the static interference, Eli could hear voices, some were standard computerized distress signals, and then others that definitely sounded like humans pleading for help. 

“What do you make of it, Commander Vanto?”

Eli tried to focus his ears on anything that sounded like humanoid speech. The tangle of garbled signals was hard even for a native speaker to make sense of. 

“There’s a few frequencies used for Imperial distress calls,” Eli realized with a rush of excitement. “I’ll try to filter out just one.”

He tapped a few controls on the computer. The noise cleared significantly, but there was still a lot to sort through. Eli listened carefully, trying to discern anything useful. Then he heard it. A voice that pulled at his memory. 

“I know that voice,” he told Ar’alani.

“Hail him.”

“This is Mid Commander Eli Vanto on the Chiss Ascendancy Ship  _ Steadfast _ ,” Eli said in Basic. “We’ve received multiple distress calls from your location. Identify yourself.”

“Eli Vanto? You’ve gotta be kidding me!,” replied the voice. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Lieutenant Gimm, is that you?”

“That’s  _ Commander _ , now,” Gimm replied with no small amount of satisfaction. “I got promoted.”

Eli couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t forgotten the fuss Gimm made about Eli’s lack of promotion so many years ago, or about the snide holophoto Eli had sent him of his own new command plaque when he finally got the recognition he deserved. 

“Congratulations. You care to update me on the situation?”

“It’s a mess down here. We’ve got at least three Star Destroyers crashed planetside…I’m in a TIE Defender now, trying to locate any escape pods or smaller ships on the ground here. If any of them made it.”

“Understood." 

“Sending you my coordinates.”

Eli turned to Ar’alani an spoke in Cheunth. “Admiral, the signI know we don’t have many resources, but we can request reinforcements for a search and rescue, right?”

Ar’lani studied him closely. “I will notify command that we’ve found a crash site,” she said. “But I cannot promise anything.”

Eli switched back to Basic. “We have your coordinates. We are coming for you and we are requesting more aid.”

“That’s the best news I’ve had all day.”

“And Gimm? Do you know if Thrawn survived?” It was a selfish question, but Eli had to ask. He half expected Ar’alani to reprimand him later.

“I haven’t heard from him. I’m not sure anyone has. I was just assigned to the  _ Harbinger  _ when everything went crazy.” 

“Understood,” Eli replied, trying to keep the disappointment from his tone. “We’ll be in orbit within 30 minutes. Use this frequency to contact us.”

“Yes, sir. Gimm out.”

Ar’alani was standing beside Eli. Her face was remarkably impassive for having just found the supposedly unfindable. 

“Take your shuttle to the surface when we arrive,” she said. “Report what you find. The  _ Steadfast _ will remain in orbit. I won’t send rescue shuttles until we know what we are dealing with. We can prepare the medical bay for the worst, and you will arrange to bring what survivors you can back here.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“And Eli? If Thrawn is alive down there, bring him back,” she added. 

“Understood. Thank you, Admiral.” 

He was gone before the bridge doors slid closed behind him. 

Eli’s first stop was his quarters. He quickly changed into his tactical gear. If he was going to be crawling through wreckage he would need the protection. 

_ Protection. _ Eli procured two blasters. The first was his old standard issue from the Imperial Navy, the other was of Chiss manufacture—with a few personal modifications he’d made. 

He hoped they wouldn’t be necessary, but there was no telling what kind of situation he’d find on the surface. If there was one thing he’d gotten very good at over the years, it was how to prepare for the worst. 

He checked each blaster before holstering them, one on each hip, then headed to the hangar.

The  _ Gambit  _ was the same Imperial Shuttle Eli had originally taken on his journey to the Unknown Regions years before. There wasn’t anything special about it beyond that chunk of history, but Eli was fond of it. It had proven useful on many missions and had helped Eli fight his way out of some close calls, but more importantly it was a sanctuary. 

The shuttle was one of the few reminders Eli had of his past. Whenever he was restless, stressed, or just plain homesick, he’d climb aboard and just sit in the cockpit, imagining he was still with Thrawn on some insane side quest guaranteed to anger High Command. 

When Thrawn disappeared, Eli spent more nights on the  _ Gambit  _ than in his quarters, re-reading Thrawn’s journal over and over. He’d memorized every word.

Ar’alani had ordered some rations and water to be loaded onto the ship. It wouldn’t be enough, certainly, but he figured any help was better than no help at all. 

As he did his pre-flight check, Eli wondered what it would have been like if he had stayed with Thrawn on Lothal. Would he be crashed on Hays Minor right now? Would he be with Thrawn? Would either of them still be alive? 

Perhaps, if they had stayed together, things wouldn’t have gone so very, very wrong. 

His comm buzzed and Ar’alani informed him they were now entering orbit around Hays Minor. Eli punched in the coordinates that Gimm had sent, and the  _ Gambit  _ dashed out the hangar bay.

Now, finally, it was time to get a few answers.

____

  
  


“This is  _ Falcon One _ with an urgent message for  _ Harbinger _ Command. Come in  _ Harbinger _ !”

Gimm waited impatiently for a response. There was still a great deal of chatter on most frequencies, and it seemed like everything was moving too slowly. 

Fighter pilots don’t do slow. Everything was zipping to and fro with quick reflexes and high energy. Gimm was no exception. 

Today felt like the slowest day of Gimm’s life. 

It was strange that there could be so much urgency and still feel so slow. Gimm was impatient, and felt like the day had been a series of ‘too slow’. His squad hadn’t been deployed over Lothal until the very last second, and by the time they were ready to do what they did best, it was too late. The crash was slow, too—a kind of horrific slow motion where no one can stop the inevitable. Then the rescue effort afterward felt like it took forever to get rolling. It took yet more time to scramble enough working ships to even start a proper scouting mission. 

Gimm’s usual TIE had been destroyed in the crash. But if one positive thing had come from all this was that Gimm was  _ finally _ getting to test out one of those new TIE-Defenders. The engine propelled him like a mynock from hell through the sky over a desolate landscape

The land was rocky, cold, and largely free of vegetation, which meant that Gimm could see miles of debris across the surface of the planet. He continued to scan the the clumps below him as he approached ‘base’--a loosely organized airfield and headquarters based inside a  _ lambda-class _ shuttle. 

He growled and sent the hail again. What was taking so long? 

Truthfully, the progress they were making was nothing short of miraculous. A rescue effort of this scale needed proper organization before the ball could get rolling on anything. 

Gimm circled the landing field twice before he got a reply on his comm. 

“This is  _ Harbinger _ Command to  _ Falcon One _ , please report.”

“This is  _ Falcon One _ . I have an urgent message for…well, for whoever is highest ranked down there. I made contact with a non-imperial vessel offering aid, and they’ll be here in minutes.”

“Affirmative," the voice answered. 

“This is Senior Lieutenant Pyrondi of the  _ Chimaera _ ,  _ Falcon One _ . What is your report?”

“Sir. I have received communications from Commander Eli Vanto aboard the Chiss Ascendancy ship,  _ Steadfast.  _ They have heard our distress calls and will be here in minutes.”

There was a long pause, and Gimm had to check if the signal had cut out. It hadn’t.

“You said, ‘Eli Vanto’. As in, Thrawn’s old aide Commander Vanto?”

“The very same. I recognized his accent and everything.”

Pyrondi whispered something through the static. Gimm wasn’t sure if it was a curse or a prayer. 

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look it's the First Order! Admiral Sloane and General Hux are not friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter. With Nanowrimo and Rise of Skywalker nearing it's release date, I may be uploading shorter chapters in general. Hopefully this will keep me more motivated--seeing people's comments and kudos really motivate me, and I want to keep you all entertained!

Several systems away from Hays Minor, Admiral Rae Sloane prepared for a meeting.

She’d done a mental checklist, reviewed the latest surveys, territory gains, and available resources. It was more habitual than necessary. She was ready. 

In the First Order, one must always be ready.

As she made her way down a vast corridor to the central turbolift, Rae couldn’t help but marvel at her surroundings.

_ Forget the old way. _ Rae had kept that advice close to her heart since her captain days, and this ship was a physical manifestation of that philosophy. 

At nearly sixty kilometers wide, the  _ Supremacy _ was still far from complete. The sheer size of it promised that it would be much more than a flagship, it would be a mobile capitol, one that could engage the enemy and protect its people. There would be no need to stay planetside and vulnerable. They could build all the weapons they needed in its massive internal shipyards from walkers to Star Destroyers. 

For now, most of its grandeur was but a shell, save for the innermost dwellings and command centers. A vessel of this scale took a staggering amount of resources to build. Finding those resources was a high priority for the First Order. Rae Sloane took this responsibility very seriously. 

Supreme Leader Snoke’s throne room was overly large—although, perhaps to someone eight feet tall, it felt smaller. She knew the real point was to make his audience feel small. It was an  _ old way _ idea, but one that she recognized as useful. 

In the early days, the remnants of the Empire needed a symbol of strength to rally around. Snoke had given them that. If a bit of opulence helped him along, as long as it was for the good of the Order, she could forgive it. 

Besides—it was entirely possible that she’d see things differently if she was sitting in that seat.

She shook the thought away. Her duty was to the Order, not to herself.

Still, it was tempting. 

Brendol Hux was already standing before Snoke. Typical—the man was almost always early, always trying to worm his way into Snoke’s good graces. She preferred to impress the Supreme Leader where it counted: results. 

She was very good at getting results. 

Unfortunately, Hux had a bad habit of trying to undermine her. 

The rat could ruin careers with a few well chosen words…and his little army of child soldiers was unsettlingly formidable. The success of his stormtrooper program was undeniable—a result that mattered, and Snoke had rewarded with great authority. 

Few tried to cross Hux, and most who tried did not succeed. 

Fortunately, Rae could count herself among the elite few out of his reach.

“...the newest batch of Stormtroopers and our recent Junior Academy graduates have proven themselves to be the most loyal and capable we’ve yet seen. They have scored higher than the last two batches combined, in both testing and simulations.”

“Ah, Admiral Sloane, good of you to join us," Snoke greeted her. "The General was updating me on his progress.”

“Congratulations, General. Your soldiers are a credit to the First Order,” Rae said. 

Hux twiched and glared at her. The contempt in his face was plain. “ _ Your soldiers,”  _ she had said; not _ “you.”  _ She took petty satisfaction where she could get it.

“Too bad simulations are no substitute for real experience.” 

“Indeed,” Hux replied sourly, but he kept his tone just shy of unprofessional. “Tell me, Sloane; what contributions are you bringing us today?”

Rae gave Hux a devilishly insincere smile before turning abruptly to address Snoke. 

“Supreme Leader,” she said, as though the General did not exist. He wouldn’t like that one bit, and that suited her just fine. 

“I’ve determined our next best target to further our mining operations.” She produced a holomap. “Survey ships have reported several doonium-rich veins on Hays Minor in the Otomok system. The population is small and their defences are nothing next to a Super Star Destroyer. The terrain and climate is unsuitable for farming, but locals have established a large network of underground greenhouses—large enough to sustain any permanent troops we station there.”

Snoke looked pleased. “How soon can you depart?

“Immediately, Supreme Leader. The Second Fleet is already making a scheduled stop at nearby Rakata Prime. I could easily take the  _ Resurrection  _ and secure control of the planet and it’s resources in a single local day.” 

“If I may, Supreme Leader, this might be an ideal first mission for my recent graduates,” Hux interrupted. “As you said Admiral: there is no substitute for real experience.”

Rae did her best not to glare at him in disgust. He was trying to worm his way in to get credit for her work. 

Snoke looked thoughtful at Brendol’s suggestion. It was, she was loathe to admit, a decent one. 

“I see no reason to deny our newest soldiers a chance to prove themselves,” Snoke said. “General, you and your troops will join up with Admiral Sloane and the Second fleet.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Hux replied with a curt salute. “It is an honor to serve.”

As Hux turned leave, Rae spoke again, still facing Snoke. 

“Supreme Leader, I request that Ensign Armitage Hux be assigned as my aide on this mission.”

Somewhere behind her, Rae heard Hux stumble, then march straight back. 

“That’s absurd. Armitage is barely fifteen, not to mention useless.” 

“Not so useless. In fact, it was your son who initially identified Hays Minor as a potential resource for the benefit of the First Order,” said Rae.

Hux grumbled. “Even failures get lucky sometimes.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t perform so well in physical tests, but I have found Armitage to be resolutely dedicated and quite studious,” Rae argued. “He has a sharp eye for detail. One that I believe would be well suited to this mission. His insights have been invaluable.”

“Enough,” Snoke said. “You’ve made your point. Ensign Hux will accompany you on this mission. I sense this will be a great victory for the First Order. Go, and do not disappoint me.”

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter was originally written for Karyn Faro. But the end Treason made me have to rework it for Hammerly. Luckily, it fits for her character as well. Don't worry Faro Fans! I still have a lot of plans for her! * Please note that I refer to Hammerly as Captain here, because in this version I'm placing her as acting Captain of the Harbinger during the Siege of Lothal for reasons.*

Commander Hammerly woke up with a groan. 

It was dark. At first, she thought she was in her bunk, having twisted herself fitfully during the night. Then she found that she couldn’t move, and it finally registered that something was very wrong. Her arms were pinned in place at an odd angle. She felt a few pangs of pain—her body was sore, like she’s just been in a speeder accident.

No. Not a speeder. 

_ Lothal. The battle. The ship. The fleet _

Hammerly swore as her memory cleared. This wasn’t a speeder accident; they had gone down. She remembered giving an evac order when those beasts had wrangled the star destroyer like a child’s toy, then a blur. She recalled the Chief Petty Officer shouting that they were losing altitude. 

They’d gone from hyperspace to suddenly stopping on the edge of some unknown planet’s atmosphere. The drop had been softer than she’d have expected. She reasoned that those creatures had somehow cushioned the landing—as much as a ship housing thirty-seven thousand Imperial troops  _ could _ be cushioned, anyway.

She tried to move again, braving a little more pressure when she found her arms were just asleep and not broken. Her right arm was pinned under what might have been part of a computer console. She couldn’t tell what was pinning her left arm, but she surmised it was a similar issue. 

Hammerly heard a cough off to her side. There was another survivor.

“Hello!” She called out, praying they could hear her.

There was no answer. She called out again. This time she heard a muffled groan in reply. Whoever the voice belonged to, they didn’t sound like they were in any shape to help her.

She redoubled her efforts, straining painfully to release her arms. Minutes passed. She’s worked her right arm out to about her wrist, and the struggle was taking a toll on her shoulder. She tried to ignore the very real possibility that she might dislocate it, or worse. 

She gritted her teeth and made one more attempt. The tendons stretched painfully, but she willed herself to pull harder. Hammerly felt her hand pull free, and she gasped in pain and relief. She shook her arm, trying to get her blood flowing. 

“Ow!” she said in surprise, as her hand collided with something above her. Curiously, she reached up and tried to feel what was above her. 

Despite the acute pins and needles sensation now overwhelming her arm, she could feel a smooth, roundish length of durasteel. She realized then that is was one of the giant ventilation pipes that usually ran across the ceiling. 

As her eyes adjusted to her surroundings, Hammerly began to pick out more details in the dark. She’d fallen into the pit of the command bridge as the ship lost it’s battle with gravity. It had saved her life—a pocket of salvation in a storm of shrieking durasteel—but now she worried it would become her tomb. She prayed that the pipe hadn’t sealed her in.

She began struggling again. She did have some wiggle room. If she could just shake her right arm free, she could probably crawl and find her way out. Hammerly had no idea how long she spent twisting her arm back and forth, but she was making progress. Her spirits began to lift with each new centimeter of freedom. Then there came another groaning sound.

Hammerly’s heart sank. The second groan wasn’t a survivor—it was the ship. The durasteel vessel whined and groaned under it’s own pressure. The wreckage could collapse around her any moment. She had to get out. 

Imperial officers recieved a great deal of emergency training. She drew on every bit of that now. She just needed to take things one step at a time. 

“Ok, Hammerly, you’ve got this,” she tried to reassure herself. 

She shifted her torso so she could free her left arm. There was a dark mass of debris pinning that arm too, all the way up to her elbow. She was still unable to see it clearly, and couldn’t determine any safe strategy, so she decided to wing it. It was dangerous, but she couldn’t rely on help coming. She’d lost blood flow in her arm well before she woke here, and she didn’t want to risk losing an arm because she had been too slow to save it. Hammerly liked having arms, thank you very much. 

She heard the ship groan again, and a few tremors caused the wreckage to buzz around her. Dangerous or not, she was low on time. 

Hammerly began to push at the black mass and pull her arm free. It was heavy, but she could do it. There were multiple pieces of debris. Good. She could take away piece after piece until it was light enough to pull free. She got to work, pushing fragments away durasteel and consoles, little by little. It occured to her that the debris was fairly loosely packed. There must have been something more solid at the bottom of the pile, and the added weight of everything made it impossible to move. 

She was making good progress, and each victory gave her hope and fueled her resolve. She was going to get out of here. Soon there was only a couple layers left. She pushed off another fragment of a shattered display, then reached over one more time…she was so close. 

Hammerly’s hand landed on something soft. It puzzled her at first, then her stomach flipped. Her arm was trapped beneath the body of her Chief Petty Officer. Hammerly took a deep breath, trying not to think to think about how she was now unceremoniously digging herself out from under a corpse, pushing until he rolled over enough to yank her arm out.

She pulled away the second the weight came off, and backed away as far as possible. She felt the blood rush back into her arms, a fresh round of pins and needles assaulted her. Hammerly stared into the blackness, letting her heartbeat slow. When her arms returned to normal, she could only see the outline of a motionless silhouette. 

She heard a groan again, and let out a shaking sigh of relief when she realized it was the other survivor she had called to earlier, and not warning that her time was up.

“This is Hammerly speaking. Who else is alive in here?”

“Captain,” a muffled voice replied, “Lieutenant Dillan Raspar.

Raspar was new, she recalled. Hammerly had found him to be diligent and intelligent, but nothing he did stuck out as particularly noteworthy. 

Well, now was the perfect chance for him to impress her. 

She fumbled in the dark, feeling along the pipe above her. She couldn’t sit up completely.

“Are you hurt?” she asked. 

“A bump on the head, but otherwise I think I’m fine.”

Hammerly tried to pinpoint Raspar’s whereabouts. “Keep talking. I can’t tell where you are. I’m trapped in the pit and it’s dark.”

“Not much brighter in here. I’m over by the turbolift. I think. At least I was before…before everything.”

Hammerly realized that the pipe was sloping upward. If she followed it, perhaps she would discover an opening. 

“I’m trying to crawl out of the pit. The overhead pipe has me trapped. Stay where you are. This place is too unstable.”

She crawled slowly, feeling her way through the tight space. Each foot forward found more headroom, and it encouraged her.

“I’m not sure which direction I’m headed. Keep talking to me, Lieutenant.”

“Ok…uh…I’m not sure what to say,” Raspar said, and Hammerly could hear an air of embarassment behind it. 

“I don’t care what you say, just make noise,” she said. “That’s an order.

Immediately, Hammerly heard a high-pitched tune as Raspar began to whistle some sort of song. That would do. She kept going forward and thankfully the sound grew louder. 

“I think I found an opening,” she told him when her hand poked through a hollow between what she thought was the back wall of the pit and the side of the pipe. She reached through. It was a slim opening, but she could make it if she held her breath.

Raspar stopped whistling. “I can see you. Barely. I can pull you out. There isn’t much in the way.” 

“Do it.”

Raspar’s hands found hers as she reached through the opening. She sucked in her stomach and stretched out as best she could. He tried to pull her up, but she felt her uniform jacket catch on something. 

“Wait. Let me back down.”

She settled back down into the pit and removed her jacket. She handed it to Raspar through the hole. 

“Sorry, this was caught on something. It should be easier now.”

“Yes, sir.” He reached for her hands again and tried again. This time she squeezed through. 

Hammerly realized too late that the floor was tilted. She stumbled forward and Raspar caught her. 

“Thanks,” she said. “Time to get ourselves out of here.”

“Is there no one else?” Raspar asked.

Hammerly sighed. “If there is, they aren’t talking. We can’t help anyone if we stay here. Stand up. And be careful. The ship could collapse around us at any time.”

“Yes, ma'am,” He said again. “What are you orders?” 

Hammerly thought for a few seconds. Getting out was a priority. She also needed to establish communications with any other ships in the fleet that might still be out there. 

“Evac. Let’s see if we can get the bridge door open. The power is out, but the two of us might be able to pry it open. Find something to use as a crowbar.”

Dutifully, Raspar began to search, reaching around himself blindly. “We can’t perhaps climb through a window?”

“No good,” Hammerly said. “It’s pitch black and we’re tilted to one side. Even if the transparisteel is broken, we don’t know how high up we are. I’m not ready to jump into an abyss. We’ll go through the door and make our way to the escape pods. There might be other survivors on the way. 

“This would be a lot easier with light,” Raspar grumbled. 

“Less talking, more searching.”

“Yes, Captain.” After a moment he spoke again. “Will this work?”

He handed her something long and thin and made of metal. Hammerly could feel a few bolts sticking out down the side. It seemed sturdy enough. “It might. Let’s try this. Come here.” 

Together, they found the edge of the door seal. Hammerly frowned in the darkness. There wasn’t really any space to wedge a tool into the opening. “Find something we can use as a mallet. We need to hammer it in to get some leverage.”

“I think I found something. Oh!” 

“Oh?” Hammerly echoed, then yelped as something bright blinded her. 

“Oops! Sorry, Captain!” Raspar had found a flashlight. Beyond them was a medipack, it’s contents were spilled out around the floor. “What a mess. At least we have light now.” 

Despite the spots that still danced annoyingly behind her eyelids, Hammerly smiled. “Yes. That’s good. Give me the flashlight.” She took it from him, and turned it to the rest of the room. 

The bridge was devastated. Support beams and ventilation shafts had fallen into one side of the pit, easily crushing anyone who might have been there. The other side, the one where she escaped from, had parts of the wall crumpled inward. The durasteel paneling had snapped into pieces and littered the room. The transparisteel windows were smashed, but there would be no escaping from them. Wherever they had landed, the bridge was pressed tightly against some sort of rockface, blocking them in. 

The wall along the door, however, was relatively untouched, and Hammerly thanked whatever god had granted that small favor as she located the emergency panel where she knew distress flares were kept. She retrieved the kit and inspected the contents. There was a flare gun with 3 cartridges. She pocketed them.

“Alright, lets try this again.” She grabbed a piece of the broken durasteel. “Hold that bar in place.”

Raspar did as he was told, centering the tip of their makeshift crowbar along the door seal. Hammerly struck that back of it hard once, twice, three times. 

“Help me pull.”

Hammerly and Raspar gripped their new lever and put their weight into it. The door gave a little, then a little more, then without warning, the doors snapped apart. Hammerly and Raspar both whooped in celebration even as they nearly toppled over on the slooped floor

“Not bad!” he said. 

Hammerly felt a rush of air then shined the flashlight beyond the door. Her heart sank. 

“Not good,” she said

The corridor was only half there. The floor only stretched about ten feet before it was just gone, leaving a dark chasm dividing the walls of the corridor. Pipes and cables stuck out everywhere. The flashlight birthed twisted and menacing shadows against the wall. 

She shined the light down where the floor once was. Then she turned it off. Then back on. Then back off. 

“Sir?”

“I can see l light down in that pit. It’s hard to tell from the smell, but I bet anything it’s fire and not people.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

Hammerly looked up, without turning the flashlight back on. “Do you see stars up there?”

Raspar looked. In the blackness, a tiny sliver of stars shone down on them. 

“Yes, I do. This whole portion of the tower must be cracked down the middle!” he realized.

“Good,” Hammerly said. She turned the light back on to survey the walls. “We won’t be taking a turbolift up there. Tell me, how are your climbing skills?

Truth be told, Dillan Raspar was very good at climbing. He’d done well with such challenges in training, and even gotten a few short-lived speed records. But the was in a well-lit facility and solid structures to grasp onto. Now, with little light, jagged broken durasteel, no safety harness, and the occasional live wire threatening to zap him off a precarious foothold, he wasn’t so sure.

Hammerly was just behind him. She was not particularly skilled at climbing, but she was managing at a slower pace. Her arms still ached. More than once, she had to take a moment of rest, sitting on the occasional convenient ledge to catched her breath. If Raspar was frustrated with her progress, he at least had the good sense to keep it to himself. 

A few floors up from where they began, they had found a few emergency packs and rations. Raspar secured the heaviest of the packs to himself, and Hammerly wasn’t going to complain. They had a long ways left to go. 

As they climbed higher and higher, Hammerly because more accutely aware of the lack of sound. Particularly, a lack of voices. There were still plenty of groans from the wreckage, but she heard no calls for help, no rescuers searching for potential surviors. They couldn’t be the only two, could they? 

No, she ressured herself. If she and Raspar got out, then surely others on the massive ship had as well. It was just the high quality sound proofing within the walls. If someone was on other side, they would never hear them. 

Hammerly held onto that belief. She and Raspar would escape through the roof, fire a flare, and find any other survivors they could. They would make setting up a working transmitter a priority, but she was certain if anyone had survived, at least one distress beacon would be up and running before they got there. There wasn’t a single person on the ship without the training to do so.

“How are you doing down there, Commander?” she heard Raspar ask from above.

“I’m ok. Sorry, I know I’m not very fast at this,” she responded. There came another sound of groaning metal. “And, try not to be so loud.”

“All due respect, Captain, but I’m more worried about smoke inhalation than a collapse right now.”

“What?”

“Can’t you smell it?”

Hammerly paused to take a sniff. “I guess I was concentrating too hard on climbing to notice. I’ll try to go a bit faster. Don’t wait for me. No use in both of us dying just because I’m slow.”

“Sir?”

“I have a duty to the ship and it’s crew, Lieutenant. Don’t wait for me. That’s an order.” 

Hammerly was becoming hyper aware of the smoke smell. Or was it just getting that much stronger? They weren’t nearly to the top yet, but every floor she climbed was a victory that she held onto. 

They were maybe seven levels away when she really began to worry. The smoke was growing stronger. She was beginning to feel the burn in her lungs. 

Raspar was maybe only three levels from the top. He would make it. Now to make sure she did as well. 

“Captain Hammerly, can you hear me? I reached the top. Are you alright?” Raspar called down.

“Still alive, gotta save my breath.” Hammerly gritted her teeth. 

Two floors from the top, and the smoke was beginning to fill her lungs. She could see Raspar—or rather, she could see a vague shadow that looked like him peeking down from starry opening. Almost there.

Last level.

She was beginning to cough violently, her chest stinging and desperate for fresh air. Before she could regroup, something fell from above and nearly smacked her in the face. 

“Grab this!”

Hammerly reached for it. It was one of the supply packs. She gripped it tightly with both hands. 

“Got…it…” 

She fell into another coughing fit, slipping her arm through the loop and anchoring herself to the bag. Raspar began to pull her up, and she prayed that the straps would hold. 

She slipped over the last edge, her body still desperately trying to expel the burning smoke from her lungs. She was curled up on her hands and knees, her body shaking as she finally breathed in clean air. 

“We need to get down from here.”

Hammerly nodded, her throat felt too raw to speak.

The smoke was growing even stronger now, and plumes of it was beginning to roll up and out of the great chasm, a gentle wind beginning to blow it back over them. It was time to leave. 

She rummaged for the flare pack she’d found earlier, inserted the cartridge and shot it into the sky. Red and blue sparks rained down. The light of it reflected on the hull of the once great vessel, now lying broken on the surface of some unknown planet. 

Dawn was beginning to break. She could see the light on the horizon. In the dwindling darkness, a few scattered lights were flickering at the stern of the ship. 

“I guess we aren’t the only survivors,” Raspar said. 

_ Survivors _ , Hammerly thought with no small degree of relief. She knew the number of casualties would be staggering, but took comfort that they were not alone. 

“Let’s go,” she said, roughly. 

Details emerged as the sun rose. The  _ Harbinger _ was cracked in multiple places on the back end, fracture like a model toy thrown by a child. Hammerly felt a rush of sadness for her vessel.

The descent was made easier as the planet’s sun rose above the horizon. Hammerly and Raspar went at the same pace now, and their hopes lifted as they began to hear voices and see various troopers and officers running about the wreckage. 

Hammerly felt a great deal of pride in the crew then. They were performing their duties without hesitation in a dire situation. She could even see a few TIEs flying overhead, and knew with certainty that the shrieking sound that followed them was the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. 

Raspar waved at the passing TIEs. 

“They’ll have seen the flare,” he said. “But we might want to get someplace a bit more stable.”

“Agreed,” she said.

There would be much more to do once they were rescued, but as the day grew brighter, her spirits lifted. 

When help finally arrived and they were safe inside a shuttle, Hammerly hoped the worst was over. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. I'm trying to remind myself that chapters don't have to be any specific word count. XD

Minutes after leaving the  _ Steadfast _ , Eli landed on the surface of Hays Minor. 

The land was mostly barren, with a few mountain ranges cropping up in scattered groups. The sky was grey, both from a dim sun and the smoke that was rising from the wreckage of several Imperial ships. 

It was a terrible sight. It was a wonder anyone had survived such destruction.

Pyrondi was there to greet him at the makeshift headquarters. She was accompanied by Gimm and a Lieutenant whom Eli did not know. 

She looked a mess, but seemed otherwise miraculously unscathed.

“Vanto! Where have you...how?” Pyrondi was at a loss for words.

“Don’t worry about how just yet. I promise, I’ll explain what I can. But first, I’ve brought supplies. Not nearly enough for everyone, but I’m hopeful that more will be coming,” Eli told her. 

“Right,” Pyrondi replied. “Hey, Gimm, Raspar! Start unloading the supplies. Vanto, come with me. Commodore Hammerly is getting her arm treated. She arrived just a few minutes before you did.”

Eli followed her into a nearby shuttle that was serving as a base. Inside, Hammerly was barking various orders into a comlink, while a Medical Officer was binding her arm in a makeshift sling. 

“Stop fidgeting!” The doctor scolded her in a clipped tone that revealed exactly how stressed and irritated she was. 

“Then don’t be so rough!” Hammerly snapped back, between transmissions. 

“Wouldn’t have to be rough if you’d just stay still,” she grumbled to herself.

“Eli Vanto is here, Commodore,” Pyrondi announced. 

“Vanto!” Hammerly said, shooing the doctor away and putting down the comlink. “What is going on? How did you find us?

“Believe me, I have just as many questions as you do,” Eli said. “But for now let’s just call it luck that I found you, because it will take too long to explain.”

“Got it,” Hammerly said. “What can you tell me about our current situation?”

“You’ve landed on a remote planet called Hays Minor in the Ottomak System. Admiral Ar’alani requested more aid from the Chiss Government. Once my shuttle is unloaded I can take some of the more seriously wounded back to the  _ Steadfast _ for treatment,” Vanto informed her.

“Doctor Iffrid, go triage and select those who should be treated first,” Hammerly ordered.

The doctor gave a quick nod and left. 

“Hammerly, has anyone contacted Thrawn?”

She shook her head. “No one has heard from him. Last I knew, he was commanding the  _ Chaemera _ . It went down about three klicks North from here. I was in command of the  _ Harbinger  _ when everything went to hell.” 

“I need to get to him,” Eli said. 

Hammerly gapped at him. “Vanto, we can’t drop everything to search for one man, no matter who it is. There is just too much.

“I’ll go find him then. One of your people can use my shuttle. The Chiss speak enough Basic to communicate with them and handle rescue.”

“It will be a needle in a haystack,” Hammerly said

Before Eli could respond, a loud shriek rang out. It came from the  _ Gambit _ . The two officers immediately ran to investigate. They could hear a scuffle inside as they approached.

“Al’tirma!” Eli exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” 

The young girl was kicking and struggling with a truly bewildered Gimm and Raspar. 

“Eli!” Al’tirma called to him.

“Let her go,” Eli ordered them. “She’s harmless.” 

“Like hell she is! The viper  _ bit _ me!” Gimm rubbed his hand where a red welt was beginning to form. 

Eli might have found it amusing if the situation wasn’t so serious. “Apologize,” he ordered her as Raspar released her from his grasp. Al’tirma fixed the officers with a glare. 

“Sorry,” she said in heavily accented basic. 

“What are you doing here?” Eli demanded to know.

“Ar’alani ordered me to take a rest. She didn’t say  _ where _ to rest.”

Eli rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time she’d used flimsy excuses for reckless behavior. She had a knack for getting into things she shouldn’t, and an even bigger tallent for hiding in small spaces. 

“Spryte, you  _ know _ that isn’t what she had in mind. Ar’alani is going to have my head.”

“Uh...Vanto, are you going to introduce uh, your little friend?” Hammerly said

Eli sighed. “What's done is done. Hammerly, this is Al’tirma. She’s part of the  _ Steadfast  _ crew.” 

“This really isn’t the place for a child, if you ask me,” Raspar muttered.

“I can help,” Al’tirma told him with no small amount of annoyance. She was accustomed to a much higher level of respect on the  _ Steadfast _ . To be referred to as a ‘child’ made her bristle. “I can find Thrawn.”

“She’s right,” Eli conceded. “Hammerly, you said finding Thrawn would be like a needle in a haystack. Well, looks like we’ve got ourselves a magnet.”

Hammerly still seemed confused, but seemed to finally acquiesce. “Fine. I’ll send Gimm and Raspar with you. I’ll deal with things on this end.” 

“Thank you,” Eli said. Then he pulled her aside and whispered. “Hammerly, there’s something else you should know.”

“What? Did you contact Imperial command? They should know about this.”

Eli looked at her with sad eyes.

“First...what’s the last thing you remember? How did you get there?” he asked her   


“We were on Lothal. Things went to hell and now we are here. What else is there to know?” she demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?

Eli sighed. “This isn’t going to be easy to hear, but...the Siege of Lothal happened fifteen years ago.”

Hammerly’’s face showed every sign of confusion and disbelief. “This isn’t a time for jokes, Vanto.”

“I wish this was a joke, I truly do,” he told her. “But a lot has happened. There is no more Empire. The Rebellion won. There’s a New Republic in its place, headed by Mon Mothma.”

Hammerly’s mouth was hanging open in shock. She was in disbelief. She studied Eli’s face for any signs of deceit and then gasped.

“Your hair,” she said, with growing horror. “When did it get so gray?”

Eli shot her a sad smile. He’d definitely developed a heavy salt and pepper tone over the years.

“So…” Hammerly said, seemingly beginning to accept this information. “What do we do now? I’m not sure the crew is ready for this news.”

Eli agreed with her. “For now, let them focus on search and rescue. I’m sure people will begin noticing things aren’t quite right on their own soon, but no reason to give them more anxiety about the future. They need to focus on the here and now."

“I can see why you are so eager to find Thrawn,” she said. 

“You have no idea,” he said. 

“Go. Do what you have to do. But promise me you will catch me up to speed on things the moment you locate him. I need to figure out what to tell the crew, when the time comes.”

“I will.”

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

The flight to the Chimaera was short. Gimm piloted their shuttle--an identical ship to the  _ Gambit,  _ but far worse for wear. It was one of a handful that had been salvaged from the  _ Harbinger,  _ and could only barely be called space worthy. Eli couldn’t help but feel a tinge of anxiety when he first saw it, but Gimm insisted it would be ok. The engines were in working order, and the shields were damaged, but otherwise, it functioned within acceptable parameters. 

It took a while to find a safe drop-off point. A few circles and Gimm spotted a small ledge leading into a gaping hole in the Command Tower, just a few levels below the Bridge. It was a delicate maneuver, but Gimm managed to hover close enough to the edge for the other three to disembark and begin their search. Thrawn had identified Gimm as a skilled pilot during their Academy days, and Eli was grateful for his help now.

They wound their way through a forest of durasteel, walking, crawling, and squeezing through small gaps. It was quite dark inside the wreckage, and even with flashlights it was difficult to gain a sense of direction. Al’tirma’s glowing red eyes had much sharper dark vision than her human companions. She guided Raspar and Eli through the most difficult spaces when they became disoriented, indicating the best pathways as they ascended to the bridge.

Eli’s heart beat faster and faster with each meter. 

_ Fifteen years, _ Eli kept repeating in his head.  _ Fifteen years _ of wondering, wishing, and yearning.  _ Fifteen years _ of anger, grief, and pain. It would end today. He wouldn’t have to question the what if’s or why’s any longer. All his questions, doubts, and fears would be tested once they reached the bridge.

“We’ll have to open it manually,” Raspar said, when they finally approached the sealed doors. He opened the side panel to access the controls to pull the hefty manual levers inside.

“He’s in there,” Al’tirma told Eli. 

Eli’s heart was beating wildly as the doors hissed open, and he prayed to any god that would listen that he would find Thrawn, alive and safe inside.

***

Ezra Bridger wearily opened his eyes. His body was weak from the sheer energy he’d used to shield the ship, and pain from the impact still rattled in his bones. Blearily, he took in the sight before him: The bridge was in shambles. There was weak sunlight filtering through the broken transparisteel viewports, painting soft shadows on the floor. 

_ Thrawn,  _ he thought to himself.  _ Where is Thrawn? _

Ezra lifted his head. It wasn’t easy. His whole body felt heavy and tired. He struggled to get up from the floor, pushing himself up on his hands and knees and rising slowly from the floor. He took in the sight of what was left of the Chimaera’s bridge, searching for his nemesis. 

He spotted Thrawn several meters away, his limp body prone on the floor. Ezra trudged his way to the fallen Grand Admiral. 

“Hey, wake up,” he said, gently giving Thrawn a gentle shake. “Thrawn?” 

Ezra reached out with the Force. Thrawn's presence in the Force was weak, like a thready heartbeat. He was alive, but in very bad shape. 

If Ezra wanted to keep this blue bastard alive, he’d have to get them out of there in one piece. 

“Thrawn. I need you to wake up. I’m in no shape to carry you,” he said and shook him again. When Thrawn failed to stir, Ezra groaned. “You never make things easy do you? OK...let’s see if I have any tricks left…”

Ezra reached out once more with the Force, this time searching for a deeper connection. It wasn’t far off from his ability to commune with animals...he just needed to try and get at Thrawn’s consciousness and prod him awake…

Ezra heard Thrawn groan then take a sharp intake of breath. The connection broke and Ezra sighed, relieved.

“Welcome to the land of the living,” Ezra greeted him. Thrawn open his eyes and blinked a few times. His glowing eyes were dim and unfocused, but after a moment he whispered weakly.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” 

There was honest confusion in his question. 

“Because,” Ezra said, “that isn’t the will of the Force.”

Thrawn didn’t say anything to that. He just closed his eyes, as though blocking the world out. 

“Hey, don’t fall asleep again. We need to get out of here. Can you move?” Ezra asked.

“...leave me.”

“Sorry, not an option this time,” Ezra told him. “We can’t stay here, it’s dangerous. You need medical attention.”

Thrawn let out a dreadly weak laugh, followed by a cough. A bit of blood trickled from his mouth. “Is this some attempt at irony? You’ve won, Ezra Bridger. You proved yourself the better warrior. I concede defeat. Now leave me, or kill me. My life is forfeit either way.”

“Come on, you aren’t the defeatist type,” Ezra said. “The Force has a plan. I don’t understand it, but I’m going to follow my instincts. And right now, my instinct is to save you, whether you like it or not.”

Thrawn closed his eyes again. “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” There was a sadness in his voice as he said this, and a cold wave of regret flowed from him. 

Before Ezra could consider a reply, he heard muffled voices. He sensed three minds approaching the bridge followed by some knocking and clattering from beyond the door.

“You should go,” Thrawn warned him. “Anyone looking for me is a potential enemy to you.”

“Injured or not, I can take on a handful of officers.” Ezra said.

“Perhaps.”

Ezra wasn’t sure if that was sarcasm.

“You should hide yourself,” Thrawn said. His eyes were still closed.

“Hey, don’t go falling back to sleep on me,” Ezra said, but it was too late. 

Ezra heard a hiss as the doors were unsealed and he swore. He knew Thrawn was correct. Whoever entered the room, it would be foolish to think they wouldn’t blast Ezra on sight. Thrawn needed help from his people. So Ezra did as Thrawn suggested and hid himself in a corner, force-pulling a piece of debris over himself just in time.

***

Eli held his breath as he stepped onto the bridge, eyes darting through the demolished command center, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. The air was dusty from dirt that had been flung upwards as the Chimaera crash landed, it’s massive weight displacing the loose soil on the surface of Hays Minor. 

There, in the middle of it all, a white-clad figure laid still and silent.

“Thrawn!” Eli shouted, nearly falling over a pipe as he ran to kneel beside his long-lost friend. There was blood splattered on the white collar of his uniform,. He leaned in closer and said in Cheunth, “Thrawn, open your eyes, please look at me. Please, say something.”

One second, two seconds, three seconds…

“Eli…” Thrawn said, his voice raspy. “I didn’t think I’d been seeing you here.”

The sound of relief Eli made once he remembered to breathe sounded almost like a weak laugh. 

“Surprise.” 

Thrawn gazed up at his friend. His eyes were still unfocused, but his expression struck Eli like cold water. He’d never seen Thrawn so tired or vulnerable before. It frightened him. 

“Can you move at all?” Eli asked him. 

“Not without aid.”

Eli turned to Raspar. “He’s hurt. We need to get him help, fast.”

“I’ll comm Gimm.”

“Eli Danger!” Spryte hollered. She was pointing wildly at a pile of wreckage in a dark corner.

Military training instantly took hold as Eli and Raspar readied for an attack. 

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” Raspar shouted.

“No,” Thrawn croaked out.

“Wait!” Eli said to Raspar, then leaned closer to question Thrawn. “What’s going on?”

“It’s the Jedi Ezra Bridger. He will not harm you if you do not provoke him,” he told him. “He said he does not wish for my death.” 

“Mighty kind of him,” Eli muttered, then lowered his blaster, motioning to Raspar to do the same. Raspar gawked at him, but he acquiesced. 

“Eli...we may need him. Trust him...for now…” Thrawn closed his eyes, unable to muster the energy to continue speaking.

Eli looked to the corner of the room where Spryte indicated.

“Hey, it’s alright” he called out. “You can come out. We won’t harm you.”

***

“Thrawn!” 

Through a small gap, Ezra watched as a uniformed officer in tactical gear ran to Thrawn’s side, kneeling close to him, chattering in a language that Ezra did not understand. 

Two more people followed him. One was a tall officer with dark hair, and the other--he did a double take--the other was A: very short and B: very blue.

A child? Here? She looked to be the same species as Thrawn. Her eyes had the same red glow to them as he did. He had no idea what to make of the child, except that perhaps she was somehow related to Thrawn.

Ezra studied the trio more closely. The man kneeling beside Thrawn wasn’t wearing Imperial armor, if the insignia on his shoulder was any indication. The other man was definitely wearing an Imperial uniform. Softly, Ezra heard Thrawn say “Eli”, only to trail off to something inaudible. 

Ezra watched as Thrawn’s rescuer slumped slightly, then replied something equally unintelligible. The words were lost, but Ezra could feel a deep relief and affection behind them. 

“He’s hurt,” the soldier turned to his companion and said in a wild space accent, “We need to get him help, fast,” 

At this angle, Ezra could see the soldier’s face more clearly and his heart nearly stopped. It was the man from his vision; the one with the kind face. 

“I’ll comm Gimm…” the other man said, reaching for his link.

“Eli, danger!” 

Ezra was a bit shocked when the girl looked at where he was hiding, as if she could see him clearly through his cover. She pointed in Ezra’s direction. 

Both men sprang to attention and drew their weapons. 

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” the Imperial yelled. 

“Wait!” The man with the kind face, this ‘Eli’ looked back and forth between Ezra’s location and Thrawn, who seemed to mumble something in that same unknown language that Eli had used earlier. After a short verbal exchange, Eli lowered his weapon, and motioned for the other man to stand down. 

Ezra held his breath. 

“Hey. It’s alright,” Eli said. “You can come out, we won’t harm you.”

“We won’t?” the Imperial said in disbelief.

“No, we will  _ not _ ,” Eli insisted, with a tone that left no room for argument. The man lowered his weapon, but looked very unhappy about it. 

“Ezra Bridger, come out. We don’t have time to waste.”

There was no point hiding anymore. “Okay, okay. I’m coming out now. Don’t shoot. I’m unarmed.” Ezra crawled out of his hiding space, and tried his best to ignore his own pain as he walked toward them. He stopped a couple meters short.

“I’m Eli Vanto,” the man said to him, reaching out an empty hand in greeting. “Thrawn said I could trust you.”

“Are you sure he’s not delusional?” Ezra asked. 

“No, I’m not. But he’s never steered me wrong before. Please, don’t make this the first time.” 

Ezra took Eli’s hand and shook it. 

“Raspar, contact Gimm. Tell him we have Thrawn and another survivor. We will all be heading directly to the  _ Steadfast.  _ It’s Thrawn’s only hope.”

Raspar looked repulsed when he realized Eli was intent on saving Ezra as well as Thrawn, but still followed Eli’s orders. 

The little girl hung back, prefering to stand behind Eli. 

Ezra could tell that she was Force sensitive. Her presence was brighter to him than the others in the room, and she’d sussed him out with no effort. Ezra got the feeling that she was evaluating him. 

“Here,” Eli said, handing Ezra a med pack. “I’m sure you’re in pain. There’s medicines and stims in there.” 

“Ah...yeah. Thanks,” he said, accepting the pack. 

Eli returned to inspect Thrawn’s injuries.

Raspar was still talking on the com, but he kept glancing at Eli and Ezra, clearly upset that Eli was offering aid to an enemy. 

No. Not  _ an  _ enemy.  _ The  _ enemy. The sole person responsible for their situation.

“Is he going to be a problem?” Ezra asked Eli.

“I’d say he’s the least of your worries. There’s probably a few thousand survivors outside who wouldn't think twice about tearing you apart on sight,” Eli told him. “After we get you some medical assistance, I’ll be locking you in the brig. For your own safety, of course.” 

“Locking me up to save me. That’s new. Thanks.”

Eli fix him with a dark and pointed glare. “Understand one thing here, Bridger. I’m not protecting you out of kindness, only duty. Many of the people on this ship were friends of mine, and Force-willing some of those friends might yet be saved...but don’t mistake my protection for friendship.”

Ezra felt every word like a knock on the head.

Wait…Eli said ‘Force-willing’... 

“The Force is what brought me here,” Ezra said.

“Well, I guess we have that in common,” Eli replied. 

Ezra began to rub his temples and his eyes began to squeeze shut...the lights were bright...too bright. The knocking continued—oh, his head was starting to pound!

“Hey….you with me, Bridger? Bridger?”

“I think I might have a concussion,” Ezra managed, before a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him and the young Jedi passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Eli isn’t gonna start out very fond of Ezra......there are reasons, and it will be addressed. 
> 
> Thanks everyone for sticking with this story！

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! More to come soon, I hope!


End file.
